by P. G. Kassel
It was Marty Wedlow and he was doubling back in the direction of Oceanside Park.
Chapter Twenty
Desperation
Marty darted into the middle of the driveway to avoid the lights on the side of the building. His heart pounded, almost beating out of his chest. He could tell by the footsteps in the blackness behind him that the cop was gaining. The wail of the approaching sirens couldn't even muffle them.
Marty pulled the knife out its sheath. There was no good reason for it but the blade in his hand somehow calmed his fear.
A hundred feet ahead of him was the fence enclosing the parking lot. He just had to get back through the gap in the fence and head for his car and he'd be golden. He weaved around the back of a parked trailer, almost losing his footing, but now he had a clear line to the fence.
Ninety feet, eighty feet, seventy feet, sixty feet, his chest heaved, fighting to draw in enough breath to keep going.
"Wedlow, stop!" he heard the voice scream behind him.
It had to be Larkin. He and his partner had been at the park that day and who else would know his name? He wasn't about to give that stinking cop the satisfaction and put on a new burst of speed. He'd be out of the city tomorrow, anyway. It wouldn't matter that Larkin spotted him.
He was almost at the fence now and headed for the torn section in the corner.
"Stop, Marty. Drop the knife," Larkin yelled from behind him. "Drop it! You're gonna get shot."
Marty threw the knife aside as he dived for the opening in the fence.
“Stop!” Larkin shouted again. “Get down, face down on the ground.”
Shit! That crazy Larkin would shoot him. And all over some stupid blonde.
He pulled up the flap of chainlink and pushed through. A jagged piece of fencing caught on his pant leg and he went down hard in the parking lot. He tugged his pants free and got back on his feet.
He began running full speed towards his car parked in the middle of the lot. There were only a few cars left now so he'd have little cover. He had to get to the car as quickly as possible.
The scream of the sirens grew louder as he ran for his car. And then three patrol cars sped into the parking lot, their emergency lights flashing, heading right for him. He'd never make the car now.
The nearest section of fence ran parallel to the inland roller coaster. It was his best bet now and he ran hard for it
As he closed in on the opposite fence Marty got a sudden feeling, a feeling that Larkin was falling behind. True or not, it spurred him forward.
The roller coaster structure towered over him now, the ambient light squeezing through the steel girders casting twisted shadows on the pavement below. He scoped out the fence as he approached. The top angled some sixteen inches outward over the parking lot but at least there was no barbed wire on it. He'd have to try it, he had no choice.
Marty leaped upward as he reached the chainlink, fastening himself to it like a bug on a wall. He scrambled upward, fighting for footholds, the wire cutting into his palms and fingers. He could sense the patrol cars closing in on him as he reached the overhang. He took hold of the heavy wire with both hands and then swung his leg out and upward. He didn't make the height he needed and as his leg fell back downward he almost lost his grip. His desperation pushed him to try again and this time he was able to hook his foot over the top of the overhang. Hearing the brakes of the patrol cars squealing to a stop he catapulted his body over the top, hung on to the fence a split second, and then dropped heavily to the ground. He landed hard and felt a burst of sharp pain in his left ankle.
He headed under the roller coaster, weaving in and out of the steel columns. Each of the first few steps were accompanied by stabs of pain but the adrenaline kept him moving forward. The pain soon lessened to a deep throbbing, and even though he had to favor his left leg, he found himself running again. He reached the far side of the coaster, and exhausted, paused to catch his breath and get his bearings. He looked back from where he had just come.
Larkin was at the base of the fence holstering his pistol as two officers hurried out of one of the three police cruisers that screeched to a stop. Larkin began scrambling up the fence and the other two men followed close behind him. The other two cruisers gunned their engines, spun around and took off again, heading for the park's front entrance.
Marty took a deep breath and began running again, heading into the park. The two cruisers would be at the front of the park within seconds and he was certain that more cops were probably already there. If he could get through to the pier before they caught up to him he might be able to get away in the ocean. It was dark and they'd have a tougher time following him in the water.
With most of the colorful attraction lights off, replaced by sparse utility lighting, the park took on an eerie appearance. He ran through a black and gray world with twisted shadows that crawled along the ground and up the sides of the attractions. The sirens were cutting off now but the last remnants of their screams reverberated across the empty grounds, and even when they stopped altogether he could hear them still echoing through his head.
His ankle was killing him as he sprinted towards one of the park's main thoroughfares. He could hear multiple footsteps slapping against the pavement somewhere behind him, the panic gripping his chest increasing with the sound of every step. The thoroughfare housed mainly game arcade and food concessions. The moment he set foot in it he heard shouts from his left. Half a dozen cops were running towards him from the front of the park.
He turned in the direction of the ocean and at the first break in the line of buildings bolted back into the shelter of the darkened thrill rides. The sound of pursuing footsteps seemed to be everywhere now, all around him. He paused, trying to decide on a path of escape, but everything looked twisted and jumbled to him. He ran blindly onward.
Marty had almost forgotten about the pepper spray, but now beads of sweat liquefied the chemical that had dried on his forehead and carried it down into his eyes. He wiped at them with his forearm as he ran but it only made the burning worse.
The Tilt-a-Whirl came into view ahead of him and beyond that he could see the outline of the pier, still a full block away. He'd make it, he told himself, he'd get there ahead of them. But suddenly, three more cops appeared from somewhere behind the antique carousel, blocking the path to the pier. They spotted him quickly and raced straight for him.
He spun around and headed along the side of the Tilt-a-Whirl. He was running blind now, the feeling of panic and desperation tightening around his guts like a hungry python.
The bumper cars came into view ahead of him, the cars' dark silhouettes backlit by a strange and dim, red-orange glow coming from somewhere on the far side of the open ride enclosure. Footsteps, too close, suddenly pulled his attention. Larkin, gripping his pistol, was running straight towards him.
"Give it up, Marty," Larkin yelled.
Marty gasped for breath as he altered his course, running around the far side of the bumper cars. The glowing light drew him towards it, like a moth to a flame.
Nearing the far side of the bumper car structure the dark ride he loathed came into view. The light was coming from it, the INFERNO GHOST TRAIN sign bathed in the reddish glow. The fake stone facade seemed to smolder under it, and the large demon head in the center archway glared down at him, its mouth gaping wide as to devour him. None of its cars were moving but the ride looked as if it was still active.
The ride operator, Sabnock, emerged from the shadows beside the ride console, staring straight at him. The freak was beckoning to him, waving him over with his long, bony fingers. And as Marty drew closer he could see Sabnock was speaking to him.
"Quickly, Mr. Wedlow," the hollow voice finally reached him. "Quickly, it's your only way out."
Sabnock extended one his long fingers and punched a button on the console. One of the empty cars rolled to a stop in front of him.
There was no way, Marty thought. He hated that ride and there was no way.
"Wedlow!" Larkin's yell came from behind him.
Marty's fear and confusion stopped him in his tracks and he looked back. The son of a bitch cop was close now, too close, running at him with that damn gun raised.
"You're out of choices, Mr. Wedlow," Sabnock's voice captured his attention again. "It's your only refuge now."
There was no other choice now and Marty sprinted towards the dark ride as if he were trying to outrun the fear that was beginning to consume him. Once he was inside maybe he could find a way out. There must be an emergency exit or a service door somewhere in the ride. He saw Sabnock's tight-lipped smile widen as he neared the ride. He vaulted over the restraining rail and threw himself into the waiting car.
"There was never a doubt you'd return to us," Sabnock said, leering down at him.
Sabnock began to laugh as he stretched one of his long fingers towards a large, green lighted button on the console. It was a laugh full of madness and hate. The finger depressed the button. Marty heard the electrical circuit snap closed and caught a brief glimpse of a small tongue of flame as the green light flashed to red.
The safety bar dropped tightly into place and Marty gripped it in terror as the car suddenly lurched forward, crashed through the double entrance doors, and plunged into the darkened tunnel beyond. The rattling laughter followed him into the passage as the blackness closed in around him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Last Ride
The blackness was complete but Marty knew immediately that something was different, something was wrong with the ride. The air was heavy, thick and warm. It swirled and eddied around him, and he found it hard to breathe. And there was an odd smell, not strong but sure as hell unpleasant. They'd turned the air conditioning off; that was it, of course.
The car rattled and shook, and he couldn't be sure in the darkness but it felt like it was moving fast. He regretted his choice, he didn't like these dark rides, he was afraid of them. He bitterly regretted thinking that he could get away from Larkin and the rest of the cops this way. How stupid could he be?
A dim, reddish glow appeared through the blackness ahead of him, flickering slightly as if it was fighting to penetrate a heavy fog. And then, with a horrible chill, he began to feel that he was not alone in the darkness. He could feel it, a presence, as if someone else or something else was coming closer to him.
The strange, glowing light grew brighter ahead, focused on a gnarled dead tree. A bloodcurdling scream jolted him so hard he jumped upward, only to be knocked back down by the safety bar that slammed into his upper thighs. The body of a man, his hands tied behind his back, hurtled downward. The rope around his neck stretched taut and the hangman's knot slipped tightly behind his left ear. The man uttered a final, strangled scream that sounded simultaneously with a sickening thud.
The body hung unmoving, slowly rotating at the end of the rope. As the face swung into view, Marty gasped.
It was Stevie. His eyes bulged out from his head and his mouth was frozen open in a final, desperate gasp. His face and neck were already displaying an ugly, purple discoloration, and his head was cocked at a grotesque angle.
What the hell was this? Marty knew he must get out of this place. He tried to rise again, to squeeze out from under the safety bar. But the harder he struggled, the tighter the bar seemed to press in on him.
A cacophony of ghostly wails drew all his attention. Directly ahead were several phantom figures on either side of the track, their pale robes billowing around them in the hot, turbulent air. Their dead eyes were fixed on him—staring, glaring, angry. As they closed in on the car he could hear them speaking. At least, he guessed they were speaking. Low, unintelligible but threatening words spewed forth from their gaping mouths and hung in the dense air.
They were all moving towards him, reaching for him, claws as sharp as knives swiping at him. He felt burning pains along his cheek, and then across his forehead. He was sweating from the heat and the fear, and the sweat seeped into the deep scratches, burning and stinging. He wildly raised his arms, crossing them in front of his face for protection. The sound of ripping fabric was followed instantly by searing pain in each of his arms, and chest. He heard himself scream.
He was finally past them, out of their reach, and the tunnel plunged into darkness once again. He felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skin. He opened his mouth to cry for help but all he heard was a pathetic whimpering, gurgling sound.
Once again there was light coming from up ahead, a dim, red, flickering light. He recognized it from before, the cellophane flames lighted by red spotlights, and the pathetic dummies of the people burning in the fake fire.
But again something was changing. The air was more stifling and carried the heat of a furnace. The flickering cellophane morphed into real flames and the dummies into real, tortured people. They wailed and screamed as the fire swept up around them, unable to move within the conflagration. And even though the flames touched them, melted skin and charred them, none of the bodies perished.
The car plunged into the flames and he screamed crazily as he felt his skin begin to blister under the heat of the fire. He thrashed and kicked in his tiny, moving prison, pushing hard at the restraining bar that only burned his hands in the effort. The heat took the last of his hope and he collapsed back in the seat to wait for the flames to take him.
He wondered if he had somehow lost his mind, that all of this was delusion. But the pain from his scorched skin and ugly scratches reminded him that this was all too real.
The wailing of the burning souls faded away and the tortured, scarred bodies disappeared into the embers of the dying flames. Only a hazy, orange glow was left, barely visible through the blackness.
The air remained thick and hot and an unexpected quiet fell over the darkness. He could hear only the creaking of the car as it continued speeding forward. And then he glimpsed movement ahead and above him, a slight glimmer of silver-white catching some of the pitiful light. It was a long, curved strand of thread or some kind of fiber. It wasn't just a single thread, more of them came into view as he drew nearer.
He tasted bile in his mouth as he realized what it was. A web, it was a large web that floated in the blackness, and crawling downward on it was a large, black spider. He'd never seen a spider so large, except in books, and then he could only glimpse the photo a brief moment before being overwhelmed with revulsion.
The spider reached the edge of the web and then dropped off the side, dangling from a single strand of silk. Lower and lower it descended, and the closer it drew to the floor the larger it grew.
Marty struggled and squirmed in the seat of the car, frantically looking for some way to shield himself from the eight-legged monster now coming for him. He heard a pathetic, crying scream in the air and then realized it was coming from him. He could barely look at the thing nearing the floor on that glistening strand of web. The car was picking up speed and he thought there was a chance it would get past the horrible thing before it reached the floor.
"God!" Marty cried out to the darkness. "Get me out of here. Please God, get me out of this and I swear I'll do anything you want."
The spider was grotesquely huge now, its bulbous body the size of a dog. It was almost to the floor but the car shot past it. Marty twisted around in time to see it touch the floor and take after the car, scuttling forward, its huge mandibles opening and closing as it closed in.
Marty screamed, his body weak with fear, the feeling of panic physically painful. And then a roar shook the car. He jerked around and his mouth opened in a silent scream. A sensation of deep anguish now coupled with his terror.
The Devil on the rock wall. At first it appeared as it had earlier in the day, the rubbery skin an ugly brownish grey, the flashing reptilian eyes. But then it leaned out from the wall, the rotted claws of its feet gripping the rock ledge while the huge dragon wings flapped fiercely.
Marty could still hear the spider scuttling and chittering behind him, but now h
e was unable to tear his eyes from what lay before him.
The Devil extended its right arm towards him, and he could see the claw-tipped fingers opening wide. He'd called out to God for help but he knew it was a worthless plea when he'd done it. He'd ignored God and God's ways his entire life, and now it was not God reaching for him but Satan.
He braced himself for the sting of the razor-sharp claws but the huge creature reached past him and scooped up the spider in an effortless sweep of his arm. As Marty watched in horror and revulsion the Devil's mouth opened wide, a gaping chasm of rotting teeth and unbelievably long fangs. The demon shoved the spider into its mouth, closed its fangs down on it, and swallowed it whole.
The Devil glared at him steadily until the car passed into the cavern opening below its perch on the rock wall.
The blackness squeezed in around him again and the sweltering air suddenly turned cold, chilling him to the bone. A soft, white light slowly faded up from the darkness ahead of him and two figures appeared in the glow. He strained to see through the darkness and gasped with recognition.
Standing in the shadows was the old coot from the market. Baumgarten, Larkin had called him. And next to him was a kid, the clerk from the ticket booth he'd knocked over that evening. Their faces were bruised and cut, just the way he'd left them. They stared at him as the car carried him closer to them, their expressions displaying a strange, amused interest in him. They barely moved as the car shot past them, but their eyes stayed on him every moment.
They were barely out of sight when he heard the sound of crying up ahead. The sobbing was soft, but growing in volume, and echoed around him as if it would never stop. Up ahead two girls came into view, each of them illuminated in a soft, warm light that shimmered around them. Who were they? They looked a little familiar but he couldn't be sure.
As the car drew closer to them he could see them better. One of the girls was half naked, her summer dress barely hanging on her slender body. Her face was swollen and bruised, and her thighs bruised as well. The other one was in the same shape, bruised and cut, her clothing badly torn. Both girls stared at him with empty eyes, their faces drenched in pain and grief.